


Welcome to the Jungle

by itsamagicalplace



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Friendship, Reality TV AU, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-09-24 09:41:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9715802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsamagicalplace/pseuds/itsamagicalplace
Summary: Chef extraordinaire Phil Coulson isn’t quite sure what possesses him to say yes when his agent suggests taking part in the upcoming series of “The Jungle”. But when he comes face-to-face with a ghost from his past, it promises to turn into one of the best decisions of his life.





	1. Welcome to the Jungle

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to elle_you_oh for dragging me back into fandom and fic writing, and for beta-reading this for me <3

Phil stared up the wooden jetty, squinting in the bright light of the Australian midday sun, and shielded his eyes with his hand.

All he could feel was regret.

That and the burning rays beginning to slowly cook the top layer of skin along his bare forearms and exposed neck.

He hated reality shows. Hated them. 90% of the time they seemed to be filled with fake, wannabe celebrities, and Z-listers desperate for that small sliver of silver screen fame. At this precise moment in time therefore, he was debating turning right back around and swimming after the boat that had just dropped him off.

He wasn’t quite sure what had possessed him to say yes when his agent suggested taking part in the upcoming series of “The Jungle”. Maybe it was the financial incentive for being a contestant that could pay several years worth of bills for the newest bistro he had opened, or maybe it was the exposure and potential career-boosting move Victoria seemed to think he required. Whatever it was, at this moment in time, as he headed towards the presenting duo known as “Huntingbird” and half a dozen rolling cameras, it didn’t seem worth it.

Definitely not.

 _Would anything good come out of it?_ he asked himself, as the wooden planks of the jetty ended, and he crunched up a gravelled path towards a large villa-style building. In the past, winners of the show had achieved success in their careers, true, whether they were offered magazine deals or new presenting roles or gained enough popularity with sponsors they were sorted for life. But that was the winners. Those who came runner-up, or further back - which was a very likely scenario he had to admit - only saw small career boosts, unless they were caught up in some kind of Jungle scandal or romance.

Neither of those were probable options.

Phil frowned, before remembering the cameras. They’d only been on him for a few minutes (despite it feeling like a lot longer) and he was already worrying about his facial expressions - did he look like he was filled with regret, or excitement? Regardless, these shows were constructed in such a way that meant whatever Phil showed outwardly would likely be portrayed however benefitted the show most.

Before he had a chance to consciously alter whatever grimace was on his face however, he was there, at the welcome podium, shaking hands with Lance Hunter and Bobbi Morse, and being welcomed into the next few weeks of his life.

“Welcome Phil Coulson!” announced Bobbi, turning back to face the main camera that had tracked his movement towards them, and smiling widely with her blinding white teeth. “TV Chef and restaurateur extraordinaire, Phil Coulson is the fifth contestant we’re welcoming into the Jungle!”

She gestured upwards, and Phil’s gaze followed the motion towards the red-brick villa above, finally registering the small group of people standing around the patio area. The other four celebrities, he assumed, as he could not discern their identities from such a distance.

There were always rumours, of course, before a show like this began, of the line-up due to enter. Some people were approached months in advance, whereas others later on, all negotiating their own individual fees and terms of competing. He’d heard a few names thrown here and there, but the full line-up was only officially revealed on the opening show.

“Coulson!” Lance exclaimed, clapping him on the back and turning him to face the camera head-on. “How are you feeling about your upcoming stint in the Jungle? Nervous? Excited?”

“Bit of both,” Phil replied, finding both his tongue and a camera-worthy smile at the correct time. He could almost feel Victoria watching through the screen with crossed fingers and a grimace to match. “It’s going to be an adventure, that’s for sure.”

“It sure will be,” Bobbi agreed with a grin, resting her arm on his back in what he assumed was supposed to be a comforting way. “However, we’ll have plenty more time to find out all about the man behind the food in the coming days, but for now, if you’d like to head on up the steps, you can meet your fellow contestants!”

Phil felt himself being guided upwards towards a set of white stone steps, passing the camera crew and collection of various directors and producers en-route. Everyone kept smiling at him and wishing him luck, and he nodded vaguely at people as he passed, concerning himself more with who he was going to come face-to-face with at the top, and hence who he was going to have to potentially spend the next three weeks with, twenty-four hours a day.

He could hear directors discussing setting up the scene for the arrival of the next celebrity up the jetty in a few minutes time, and Phil had the sensation of being on a conveyor belt, each being interviewed then sent away in turn.

As he reached the top of the steps, he came face to face with the group of people he’d been waiting for. More cameramen were dotted around, filming their every move, and catching every glance, conversation and decision on film.

He was going to have to get used to that.

The group before him all turned his way as he approached, all likely wondering the same as him, whether those they were meeting would be good or bad companions for their jungle stay.

“Hey, it’s Phil Coulson” called a large blonde guy with muscles the size of boulders on each arm. “I love your show man, I have all your recipe books.” He reached a hand out and shook Phil’s vigorously. “Thor Odinson, nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Phil agreed, taking in the man’s impressive form, and the beer bottle hanging from his other hand. “Thor... the world champion wrestler, right?”

“Unbeaten for the last four seasons,” he replied proudly, before laughing deeply. “We’ll see if three weeks living on rice and beans can knock me off course for a fifth.”

Phil smiled, eyeing up the table behind them containing refreshments, and already feeling a little more relaxed. He turned to the next person in the line, who, thankfully, he recognised just by appearance this time.

“Leopold Fitz?” Phil asked, holding out his hand towards him. “I’ve seen some of your documentaries... guess you’ll be right at home in here then?”

The younger male smiled nervously. “Please, it’s just Fitz really, everyone calls me that… but yeah, I’ve been to plenty of jungles around the world, have camped out in a few too, but never one in Australia so it should be fascinating to see the variety of species at home in there...”

He trailed off, running a hand through his hair almost self-consciously, and Phil smiled at him in what he hoped was a reassuring manner, before turning to the woman on Fitz’s right. She had curls as dark as night, and was dressed in a floor length flower dress.

“Hi, I'm Phil,” he announced, reaching out to shake her hand. He looked at her questioningly. “I don’t believe we’ve met?”

“Hello Phillip Coulson,” she replied, in a smooth melodic voice, “I’m Raina.”

She didn’t elaborate any further on whether she knew him or what her profession was, so he nodded politely before turning to the final member of the group. She too he recognised, but this time he knew where from, and he smiled warmly

“Maria,” she said, holding out her own hand first. “How’re you feeling?”

Phil had regularly seen Maria working on screen as a potential financial investor, bidding to assist people attempting to start up their own businesses. He would often curl up and watch the show with his daughter, and hoped she would one day grow up to be as determined and independent as Maria Hill seemed to be.

“I’m okay, a little nervous” he admitted, shaking her hand before glancing back towards the seafront below; he could see Huntingbird talking to a new contestant, who would soon be repeating this process themselves. “You?”

She smiled back in response. “A little,” she agreed, taking a sip of what looked like champagne from the elegant glass flute in her hand, “but I like a challenge.”

“So,” Thor announced, handing a bottle of beer to Phil and clinking it against his own. “Any ideas who else is joining us?”

Phil shook his head, and the others followed suit. All except for Raina, who tilted hers to the side slightly. She smiled mysteriously, and spoke in a melodic tone.

“I see one to join us who considers the end near; one searching for things lost, and one who desires a past forgotten.”

Phil glanced over to her curiously, but she was staring out to sea absently. Fitz caught his eye instead, and leaned over surreptitiously.

“She’s a _psychic_ ,” he muttered quietly, emphasising the word a little as though he didn’t quite approve nor believe in it. “On late-night tv.”

“Ah.”

He didn’t need to say much more.

 

\---

 

The next half hour was filled with the arrival of five more celebrity contestants, each introducing themselves to the group as Phil had done so before. There were smiles and laughter, and he wondered whether he’d been building it up into a potentially negative experience prematurely.

They were joined by Olympic archer Clint Barton, who Phil had met on a panel show the previous year; a soap actress named Skye, who seemed extremely bubbly and excited at the prospect of adventure; the ex-ballerina Natasha Romanov, who Phil recalled watching on stage on a trip with his mother many years previously; a tv mechanic called Mack, host of a classic vehicle restoration show; astronomy expert Jane Foster, who was already discussing the constellations that may observe over the coming weeks.

So far, Phil thought, as everyone around him chatted and got to know each other, they all seemed a lot nicer than he’d been anticipating. Maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be _so_ bad.

The afternoon sun was burning more intensely than before, and he thanked his lucky stars he’d remembered his sun lotion. The last thing he would need would be lobster-face on national television every evening.

Although it would probably give the audience a bit of a laugh.

His strategy was unclear so far. Sure, he knew he wanted to come across as a genuine likeable guy, but what else? Some contestants went in with the intention of gaining publicity for new roles on tv. Some wanted romance, and it was widely believed the producers often selected single celebrities in the hope of starting a jungle flirtation. And some people seemed to show up just to stir trouble, gaining ratings and votes for audience enjoyment.

“Phil?”

He was drawn out of his thoughts by a quiet voice, his heart hammering as he realised instantly who it belonged to. Decades had passed, but he’d never forget her voice.

He turned slowly, not quite believing his own ears.

“May?”

She smiled a little and stepped forwards, almost hesitantly, both of them meeting slightly apart from the group.

Despite their vast history, he was suddenly unsure of himself, and the two stared at each other for a moment.

She hadn’t changed, not really. She was still petite, deep brown flowing hair framing her face, and she brushed it away with a hand. She was older, as was he, but in all honesty she had hardly aged, and Phil had to mentally count the years it had been since their last meeting.

When they’d screwed up the best friendship either had ever had.

Years ago, they’d probably have greeted one another with a hug, a punch on the arm, or she’d have launched herself onto his back from behind and he’d have struggled to pick up her without flailing.

But that was then. And this was now.

It had probably been twenty years since they’d last laid eyes on one another, and whilst she had hardly changed appearance-wise, Phil knew they were both probably very different people now than they had been, with careers and experiences and their own lives.

He’d spent a long time to begin with wondering what it would be like if he saw her again, these thoughts dwindling as he got older and he progressed through life, but they reared their head again each time he caught a glimpse of her on film or tv. However Phil knew full well this had never been in his mind as a scenario for their first potential meeting since that day.

He knew exactly what had happened the last time they had seen one another, on a rainy July evening after graduation, and he could tell from her guarded expression as she stood before him that she did too.

He berated himself for thinking seeing her would be like they were eighteen again. Time had passed, for both of them, and they had grown up.

The rest of the group began to swarm around her, introducing themselves excitedly and with vigour, and Phil stepped back a little to regather his thoughts. He could see another contestant making their way up the steps - a male from the looks of things - and decided to focus on the task ahead for now.

He’d speak to her later on, at some point.

It would be unavoidable.

The twelfth and final contestant arrived on the patio, with a wary glance around at everyone, and Phil nodded in greeting, reaching out to shake his hand.

“Phil Coulson. Nice to meet you.”

The newcomer took his outstretched hand in response. “Ward. Grant Ward.”

“Wilderness and survival expert,” Fitz voiced from his right, and Ward glanced over at him with a nod.

Bobbi and Lance had appeared behind him on the patio, and the cameras all began refocusing on them. After greeting Ward, everyone slowly quietened down listen to what their hosts had to say.

“Welcome to your first day,” Lance began, crossing his arms in front of him. “Obviously you aren’t currently in the jungle but not to worry,” he grinned, “you’ll be there soon enough.”

Everyone shared anticipatory glances, the previous excitement turning to nerves as people began to realise this was really the start.

Phil swallowed, glancing at Melinda down the line. She was watching the hosts with a blank expression on her face. He turned back.

“The people you are surrounded with are now your fellow campmates,” Bobbi continued, her blonde curled hair blowing slightly in the wind. “You’re going to have to work together and in harmony if you want to get through the next three weeks.”

She paused, allowing her words to sink in.

“In the coming days you will face a great number of challenges, both physical and mental. Some will push you to your personal limits. Each challenge will require you to collect stars, one of which will equal a portion of food for camp that evening.”

“You’ll need to work both as a team and sometimes alone in order to win as many stars as you can for the camp,” said Lance, glancing from person to person. “Certain tasks will favour certain traits and abilities, so choose your candidates wisely.”

“After seven days in camp, the public will begin to vote for the celebrities they most want to see continue. Every evening from then onwards, there will be an elimination, and the celebrity with the fewest votes will leave the jungle.”

“At the end of the three weeks, there will be only two remaining, and the public will then vote to crown their new King, or Queen, of the jungle.”

Bobbi and Lance grinned at each other, before turning back to the row of celebrities in front of them.

“Let the fun begin… welcome to The Jungle!”


	2. Smells Like Team Spirit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to elle_you_oh for editing and beta reading, and for assisting with my apparent inability to count the number of contestants used.

 

“Right!” announced Lance, clapping his hands together and looking along the line of celebrities before him. “Let’s not get all cosy straight away, because you aren’t going to be working as a team - you’re going to be working as two.”

“You are all about to be split into two groups of six,” continued Bobbi. “The blue team, and the red team. The two teams will be rivals, and will go head to head in competition to win stars and additional prizes.”

Phil closed his eyes briefly. It appeared the happy, introductory period was over already; he’d been here less than an hour. 

“And this competition,” Lance carried on, pointing at the floor. “Begins right now.”

There was a rumble of murmuring along the line, and Phil could see the cameras tracking their reactions. It was something he needed to get used to, quickly. 

“How do we decide the teams?” asked Ward, arms crossed and posturing.

Bobbi gestured behind them all. 

“Behind you, you will find twelve seemingly identical packs.”

Phil turned around - as did a few other members of the group - and saw that rather than refreshments covering the table as they had been when he’d arrived, it was now piled high with twelve brown packages, each appearing to be a bundle of some kind of material, tied shut with a fabric bow. They appeared identical. 

“We will now ask each of you to choose a bundle at random.”

In the order of the line, they each walked over to the table, and randomly selected a parcel from it’s contents. Phil watched as Maria chose hers without hesitation, whereas Jane seemed to take a little longer, observing them closely to see if there was any difference. 

When it was his turn to take one, he could see there was nothing obviously distinguishing about any of the parcels, so he took the bottom left at random, and returned to his place in the line. 

As he glanced back to watch everyone else choose theirs, he made eye contact with May, and smiled a little, hoping he seemed open to future conversation. She blinked a couple of times before glancing away. 

He was sure he saw a glimpse of a smile. 

The promise of future interaction.

Once everybody had a pack of their own, they all returned to their previous positions, and waited for their next instructions.

“Inside the packages you have hold of,” Bobbi explained, “is the team you will join. There are also a few basic essentials you may need.”

“Feel free to now open them up.”

Everyone proceeded to open their bundle, and found each contained a coloured bandana, in either red or blue; the colours determined their teams - Phil had blue.

Also included in the package was an empty water bottle, which he assumed he’d have to refill himself throughout the next few weeks, a tube of sunscreen, some insect repellant, and a hat.

Following the lead of those around him, Phil removed the bandana from the bundle, placing the rest of the contents on the floor, before tying it around his head. 

He already felt like an idiot, but he could imagine his daughter watching from home with a grin on her face at the sight of dear old dad togged up like a proper jungle explorer.

That cheered him up a little. 

He was going to miss her terribly. Three weeks with no contact whatsoever was the longest Phil had ever spent away from her. Even when he filmed abroad he’d taken her along for part of it. 

Scanning around the rest of the group, it was easy to work out who had ended up on which team. Joining Phil with the blues, were Skye, Thor, Jane, Ward and Clint. 

Melinda was fastening a blood red bandana around her head, and Phil admittedly was a little disappointed they hadn’t ended up on the same team; it meant for at least the first few days they would have to compete against one another.

And if his memory served him correctly, she was extremely competitive. 

“Comrades!” Thor announced in his booming voice, opening his arms and gesturing for the rest of the blue team to gather around him. Phil approached, along with the others. The reds grouped to one side of them - May, Raina, Natasha - whose bandana clashed terribly with her russet curls -  Fitz, Maria and Mack. 

Bobbi and Lance waited whilst the teams assembled themselves in front of them, before continuing. 

“So,” Lance said, grinning at the groups before him. “We have the red team, and we have the blue team.”

“From now on,” Bobbi continued, swinging her gaze across the two groups, “you are competing against one another. And your first challenge begins right now.”

“The first challenge - compared to the future ones at least - will be relatively easy,” Lance explained. “Simply put, it’s a quiz, to find out how much you already know about the celebrities you are teamed up against.”

“Each team will be asked 6 questions. The winning team will be allowed to enter the jungle, and make themselves at home in camp. You’ll have first pick of the beds, you have access to the bathing facilities, and you get your first meal in camp.”

“The losing team on the other hand,” Lance continued with a grin. “Will spend their first jungle night in the wilderness under the stars, with nothing but a sleeping bag and the clothes on your back. You will receive basic rations of food to survive on - rice, and beans.”

“Any questions?”

They all shook their heads, turning to watch as producers paused filming, and a couple of assistants dragged a large chalkboard into shot.

The board appeared to be split into 12 segments, each with the name of one of the celebrities around them. From the looks of it, all of the segments had some kind of envelope stuck underneath them, which Phil guessed contained the questions they were about to answer.

“Each of the envelopes contains a question about the celebrity whose name it is below,” Bobbi explained as filming recommenced, confirming Phil’s theory. “Each team will have to answer the questions relating to the member of the opposing team.”

It seemed easy enough, he thought, as Lance continued to explain the rules. The red team would have to answer questions about members of the blue team, and vice versa. Whichever team scored highest would win, and would get to spend the first night in camp. They could confer amongst themselves if need be. 

“What happens if we draw?” Skye asked, arms crossed and a concentrated expression on her face. 

“Then we’ll have a tie-break,” Bobbie explained, gesturing to the side of the board where there was another envelope. “Until we have a winner.”

“So,” Lance continued, turning to face them all with a grin. “Blue team can choose first. Who would you like your first question about?”

Phil turned to the rest of his team. He was wondering what kind of questions were going to come up, and whether they would be about their private lives, or their careers. 

He had a sudden mental image of being asked a personal question about May only he knew the answer to, and it filled him with a strange melancholy feeling. It was likely nobody in camp knew they had such history.

They used to know everything about each other.

 

\---

 

After four questions each, the scores were tied. The teams had been quizzed on topics ranging from a restoration Mack’s team had once carried out on one of the president’s vintage vehicles, to the number of years Natasha had danced professionally with the Bolshoi.

“Blue team,” continued Bobbi, reading from the next envelope in her hand. “Leo Fitz studies a lot of animals during his documentaries, but which is his speciality?”

The deliberated for a short while, before Skye called the answer.

"Monkeys."

“Correct,” Lance announced, adding another chalk tally to their score. “It stands at Blue Team 5 - Red Team 4. Next question for the reds, you have left a question about Phil, or a question about Skye?”

Phil watched as they debated who to go for next, and wondered what the question regarding himself was going to be. 

“We’ll go for Coulson,” Mack decided, and they all turned to hear what the question would be.

“What was the name,” Lance asked, reading from the card in the appropriate envelope. “Of Phil Coulson’s first ever cookery show?”

Phil knew the answer, of course he did. He’d been twenty-five and just starting out in the business, and had been offered the chance to front his own show set on a market food stall, serving up quick and easy street food - he’d lived on a small income for a while, ever since his parents had died and he’d had to fend for himself, so he was used to cooking up a decent meal with basic ingredients. 

Noodles, vegetables, cheap off-cuts of meat. He was a regular in the discount end of greengrocers and butchers, willing to take the slightly less-perfect items and turn them into something just as edible. His stall had done well, customers interested in the low-price high-flavour dishes he served them in polystyrene bowls, and the show had gained a small following of fans also interested in that lifestyle. 

Whilst filming that, he’d been scouted by his agent, Victoria Hand. She had spotted one of the episodes whilst flicking through her own channel list, and decided he had the kind of warm personality that would go down well on morning tv. Before long Phil found himself fronting a new Sunday cookery show, showing guests how to create perfect piles of pancakes filled with chocolate chips and sliced strawberries, waffles drizzled in honey and syrup, served with scoops of creamy vanilla ice-cream.

And that’s when his life had fallen apart. 

“Market Munchies” came a steady voice from the other team, and Phil looked up from his thoughts in amazement to find that Melinda had answered the question for her team, apparently without much debate, for a few members were looking at her nervously. She glanced over at him, meeting his gaze with a small smile. 

He was surprised she knew about it, seeing as most people tended to think he’d started off with his Sunday breakfast show instead. Did her instant recollection of the title mean she had watched it?

The rest of the red team were all holding their breath, waiting to see whether the answer was correct or not.

“Is the right answer!” Bobbi called, adding another chalk score onto the board.

Phil’s team all groaned; they were now drawing 5/5.

Only two questions remaining. 

“Okay blue team, your final question is about Melinda May. Whilst being better known for her action roles, which Disney princess did she voice in the 1990’s animated movie?”

Phil smiled. It was his daughter’s favourite movie, and whilst he hadn’t know May was voicing the role when it was originally released, as soon as he’d found Sophie watching it one Sunday afternoon, he’d smiled. He’d known that voice instantly. 

“It’s Mulan,” he explained with certainty to his teammates, who agreed that he could answer.

“Correct!” Lance called enthusiastically, adding the tally on the board. “That’s a full house for the blue team. All the pressure is now on you red team. If you get this question right, we’ll go to a tie-break. If you get it wrong, you automatically lose and will be heading off to spend your first nights in the wilderness away from camp.”

“Here we go,” Bobbi continued, taking the final card out of it’s appropriate envelope. “Skye is known for her role in tv soap Providence Bay, playing Mary-Sue Poots. However, Skye is, obviously, just her stage name… can any of you tell us what her real name is?”

They watched as the red team gathered together in a huddle, discussing in whispers their suggestions. When no answer came after about 30 seconds however, Skye grabbed Phil’s arm and murmured to him excitedly.  “I don’t think they know the answer…”

He had to admit, he didn’t either, but he also had never watched a show she’d been in. It was probably something only fans of hers would be able to answer, however it didn’t appear that anybody on the other team had a clue. 

Eventually, Maria turned around with a resigned look on her face. 

“We don’t know.”

Skye jumped into the air with a fist-pump, and Jane gave a little “yesss!”.

“The answer red team, is - Skye do you want to tell them?”

Skye turned with a grin to face the others. “Daisy… My real name is Daisy. And I’m not sure whether to be happy or not that mine was the only question nobody knew the answer to?”

“Be happy,” Ward told her, smirking a little. “Means we won.”

“So after all 12 questions, blue team have won 6-5, and you will be heading off into camp to settle in.”

The blues all huddled together, clapping each other on the back and congratulating each other. Phil couldn’t help but glance over to the red team, who were looking surprisingly upbeat about their upcoming night away from camp.

May met his gaze with a small nod. They had known each others questions without hesitation.

Something was definitely still there.

A low whirring sound began to emanate from somewhere nearby, and as it grew gradually louder the celebrities all began to look around themselves, wondering what it was and where it was coming from. The cameras were still rolling, however some were watching their reactions, others watching the sky.

Phil held his hand up to his eyes to shield them from the sun, and observed as on the horizon, two black dots began to move closer towards them, flying through the sky like insects. 

“Helicopters” Fitz said, and he was right.

They all waited as the choppers moved in, circling each other over the ocean in front of them all, sending ripples across the glassy surface. Afterwards they flew over their heads, and began to descend somewhere behind the villa; Phil guessed there must have been a field or very large garden around there.

“You will now all proceed to enter The Jungle,” Lance told them. “Red team, you are going to take one helicopter, blues, you’re taking the other.”

“They will fly you into your new camp,” Bobbi explained, raising her voice about the sound of the whirring blades. “Where you will be removed from society completely, for up to three weeks.”

“Good luck to everybody, and we’ll see you very soon… Let the fun begin!”


	3. It's Time to Begin, Isn't it?

Melinda fastened the buckle on the belt in her lap, pulling the strap tight around her waist.

She watched out of the side window next to her as the blue team all settled themselves into the other helicopter about 10 meters away. 

Time for the fun to really begin.

Fitz clambered in next to her, his fluffy curls blowing in the wind rushing through the open door, and Natasha followed him. The red team had lost the first challenge, but they were still raring to go, and other than Raina, who hadn't really said very much since they’d all arrived, the team seemed in upbeat spirits.

There were headsets and ear protectors hanging above each seat, which they took and placed over their heads. The noise of the engine and the blades was intense - even with the protection it was loud - but Melinda wasn’t concerned. She’d been in the air more times than she could count, and holding her own pilot’s license meant she had a love of the freedom of the skies that many others did not seem to share. 

The door was closed behind a cameraman, who clambered over to sit in the front, training his camera on their faces for their reactions, and a few moments later they took off. 

She couldn’t believe she was here. It was the last time she was placing a bet with Sharon anyway. When her agent-slash-friend had called her, and asked if she was willing to take part in the new series, she’d initially said no. They’d argued, Sharon insisting that it would be a positive experience, maybe help people see the real side of her, the funny, caring, kind side of her, and not just the tragic actress who vanished from stardom after a devastating disaster on set. 

Melinda wasn’t sure, so they came to an accord; if the production company called back to ask for her to reconsider, she would have to go through with it. If they left it, thus confirming Melinda’s theory they didn’t really need her, then she didn’t have to.

Every time the phone rang for the following ten days, she’d answered with apprehension. On the eleventh day, they called back.

Sharon had been gleeful, Melinda not so much. But she’d honor her agreement, she always did.

She watched from the window as the other helicopter banked to the right, taking the blue team to their camp within the jungle. 

The blue team.

Phil.

She hadn’t been able to believe her eyes when she’d first arrived, walking up to the villa with a combination of apprehension and resignation swirling in her mind. Of course she had recognised him instantly - how could she not - but as she realised they were about to spend the next three weeks together, after so many years apart and out of contact, she’d felt something she hadn’t experienced for a very long time.

Fear. 

Melinda had been twenty the last time they had been in a room together. Twenty, hungover, and very stupid.

He’d been twenty-two.

However time had gone by, and during which the two of them had grown up and drifted into very different, separate lives. She had watched his shows on television for a while, wanting to ensure he was doing alright in life. She almost felt guilty when Andrew walked in to see her staring at the screen, watching the man she had loved so deeply, so secretly for most of her younger years. 

The episode Phil had brought his toddler daughter on screen with him had been a sucker-punch to the gut.

It shouldn’t have been, she had told herself sternly that night when her husband was asleep, as she wiped away a sole tear angrily and downed another glass of whisky. It had been fifteen years, and obviously he had moved on.

They both had.

Hadn’t they?

She hadn’t been so sure. But seeing him again, that sparkle in his eye, his initial joy at her arrival, the following glances and smiles?

Melinda cursed herself. 

The sudden tilting of their helicopter brought her back to the present, and Melinda shook her head slightly. 

Plenty of time to reopen her wounds.

They were banking to the left, and proceeded to fly them a different route, to whatever bit of wilderness was going to be their home. 

The team was chattering away around her, and, remembering she was on film, she leaned forwards, listening to their conversations, and smiling at the appropriate moments. 

Raina watched her in silence, and Melinda actively avoided making eye-contact.

The woman looked at her like she could see into her soul.  

“Would you look at that view?” Mack exclaimed, gesturing out of the window to the left, at the vast expanse of green trees and life below them. They passed over a waterfall, steam droplets rising like a cloud from the pool below. 

It was beautiful; like paradise. 

She settled back into her seat. Maybe a few weeks here would be the perfect break, time to rejuvenate her mind and body, away from society and the media and the monotony of day-to-day life. 

Or maybe it would be the catalyst that sliced through her heart again.

They flew on. 

 

\---

 

After the helicopter had landed in a clearing several miles away, grass and leaves blowing like crazy in a twenty metre radius from the chopper, the blue team had disembarked, exiting the craft and gathering under the shelter of some trees to the side of the clearing. 

It was still hot, despite it being likely heading towards late afternoon/early evening. They had handed over all aspects of technology and modern life - including phones and watches - upon arrival at the villa, meaning they now had nothing but the rise and fall of the sun to measure their days by. 

That and the fact the presenters would likely keep popping over to throw something else unexpected into the mix, as Phil had seen taking place over the previous series. 

Camp had been relatively easy to locate once their helicopter had left; they’d each said a piece to the camera following them, generals about how they were feeling and what they hoped camp would bring, before they’d headed off, following a leafy trail through the jungle canopy towards their new home. 

Every so often, somebody would stop to point something out; a beautiful flower winding round the bark of a tree, a scurrying rodent searching for fallen berries, a giant rock shaped like the South American continent.  

Skye seemed to be leading them all, eager to explore and find their camp, followed by Ward, who was watching her with what Phil could tell was a look of longing. 

No guesses who the “camp romance” of the year would likely be. 

Jane and Thor were walking together just behind them, discussing the latest discoveries within a new galaxy, and Thor listened intently, intrigued by the conversation. He dwarfed her really, thought Phil, but she didn’t seem intimidated by his size and reputation.

Clint had fallen into step beside Phil, the two chatting generally about how they were and why they were taking part in the show. Clint openly admitted it was for the money, so he could give his wife and kids a secure future - a couple of Gold medals sadly didn’t always guarantee financial safety he explained to Phil, kicking a branch out of the way as they moved. Not unless you won in a big event such as Athletics or Swimming. 

Phil was doing it for his daughter too, partly, knowing any kind of publicity off the back of the show would provide future career opportunities, and therefore enable him to take Sophie on vacation to more places, to ensure she could take part in any extracurricular activities she wanted without worry. 

The other reason he had said yes however, was that he wanted to do something for himself. 

Since he’d lost Rosalind, and his life had imploded inwards, Phil knew he had become more introverted, leaving the spotlight, and spending all of his energy and time on making sure Sophie had whatever she could possibly need or wish for as he raised her alone. This was a chance for him to do something for himself, challenge the boundaries he’d built and try and knock through that wall.

A shout of excitement up ahead from Skye could only mean they had reached camp, and with a nod at Clint, they followed the others up the path, stepping out into the clearing ahead. 

The area was approximately ten square metres in size, cleared of trees to allow the placement of so-called furniture. The floor was covered in what just looked like brown dust. There were six hammocks dotted around, hanging from trees and between wooden pillars, and six sleeping bags on specifically built canvas structures. A small pile of logs sat to one side, with a collection of metal tins next to it, and surrounded by three wooden benches. 

Across the camp, Phil could see another path leading off into the trees, and he assumed that way housed the washing facilities. 

If you could call a hole in the ground, a miniature waterfall and an accompanying pool “washing facilities”. 

A large red phone-booth was placed at one edge of the clearing, and having watched the show before, he knew it would very likely be used in future challenges. 

The cameraman who had been tracking them through the jungle as they walked had left, and as Phil wandered around the area, dumping his pack next to one of the beds - he was sure his attempts to climb into a hammock would go down well on screen, but the time for humiliation wasn’t day #1 - he peered around for the cameras he knew would be turned on 24/7 from now on. 

He could count three red recording lights just from where he stood. 

It was like being under surveillance. 

Literally.

 

\---

 

An hour or two later, and the sun was beginning to set across the jungle. Shadows poured off the leaves above, leaving areas of darkness throughout camp, and the group gathered around the flickering orange flames of their first campfire.

Ward had taken it upon himself to sort that out, and as a wilderness survival expert, nobody had any complaints when he’d volunteered he be in charge of the fire for the first few days. 

Phil had to admit, it was all a little bit surreal. To be in the middle of the Australian jungle with a group of mostly-strangers, sat watching the sunset awaiting their evening meal, it felt... strange.

Just thinking about food made his stomach rumble, and Skye giggled as she nudged him in the side.

“Getting hungry there are we?” she asked, grinning at him as he tapped his stomach to be quiet. “Same, when’s food?”

“What’s food more like?” asked Clint from the bench opposite them, striking stones against one another to try and create a spark. “They said stars equal better food right?”

“Let’s hope for something mighty,” Thor agreed, gesturing around them. “After today, we need a feast of meat, potatoes, and good ale!”

They slid into chatter about what they fancied for their meal for a while, the shadows across the camp slowly enveloping the entire camp, until they could see little more than by the fire in front of them. 

Just as Phil thought they would be engulfed in total darkness, small lamps flickered on around them, obviously activated by the levels of light in camp.

“Look!” Jane exclaimed, pointing upwards. They all followed the direction of her gesture, and watched as a large bag was lowered towards them, descending into their camp.

They all stood, Clint and Thor taking the bag between them, and laying it onto one of the benches. 

It was unravelled, and Ward took the paper that was pinned to the fabric outer. 

“Campmates,” he read, glancing round at all of them. “As a reward for winning the first challenge, and receiving a grand total of 6/6 stars, tonight you have kangaroo steak, red potatoes, and shallots.”

Thor fist-pumped in the air, extremely happy with their food for the night. 

“Kangaroo?” asked Skye, a grimace on her face as she glanced around the circle to gauge everyone else’s reactions. 

“I’ve eaten it before once,” Jane commented quietly, nodding her head at the questioning glance she received from Thor. “At an astronomy conference in Melbourne a few years ago. It’s good.”

“How do we cook it?” Clint asked, examining the vegetables alongside it. “Like a normal piece of meat?”

“Throw it in a pan and put it over the fire,” Thor chuckled, gesturing at the empty copper pot next to the fire. “It’ll taste great however it’s cooked, and we’re all starving!”

They all debated amongst themselves for a moment. Phil stared at the meat, running recipe options through his mind. They could chop and fry it with the shallots and serve on a bed of mashed potatoes; they could cut the potatoes into chips and cook the steak sliced, tender and juicy; they could add in some of their beans and rice, and leave to bubble in a pan for a while to make a rich, hearty stew...

“Phil’s a chef, you okay taking charge of the food?” Clint asked, bringing his thoughts back to the present, everybody murmuring in agreement that he seemed to be the best choice for the job. 

“Okay” he agreed, shrugging with a small smile. “I’ll see what I can do. Anybody want to assist?”

“I will!” Skye exclaimed, bounding across the circle to him, and coming to a halt to his right. She glanced around at the collection of metal trays, raw meat and unprepared vegetables. 

Phil smiled. She was so enthusiastic, like a puppy in who just wanted to play. 

“So, what first boss?”


End file.
